


The Favour

by wisia



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-16
Updated: 2015-02-16
Packaged: 2018-03-13 04:51:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3368525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wisia/pseuds/wisia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James Rhodes is a kingsman. Well, a version of it anyway, and Tony Stark has finally called in his favor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Favour

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by/loosely based on Kingsman: The Secret Service. Somehow, I just thought it would be fun to do RhodeyTony here. I’m going to leave it here for now as it stands. Not sure if I want to do more with it.

The boy was only seventeen. He might have been the famous Tony Stark, but he was still only seventeen. In fact, James Rhodes didn’t care what anyone else might say about the kid. Tony looked miserable, which was only natural since he just learned that his parents and his butler died in the car crash several hours ago. And, of course, James was the bearer of the bad news. Sometimes, he hated his job.

                “So,” Tony cleared his throat, eyes watery in an effort to keep from crying. “Was it clean? They didn’t suffer, did they?”

                “No. They didn’t suffer,” James lied. Because describing how a person bled out wasn’t something you told a kid even if he was a genius and supposedly equipped to handle anything life throws at them.

                “I see,” Tony said and swallowed hard. James watched as Tony’s throat worked several times before speaking. His words still came out slightly cracked. “D-do—have their bodies been collected yet?”

                “I believe Obadiah Stane is handling the matter,” James replied. “I’m told he will be your guardian.”

James had to discretely adjust his left sleeve cuff to keep his face blank. He didn’t trust the man, not after what he read, but Stane did have official and legal guardianship of Tony until he reached majority.

                “I see,” Tony said slowly.

                “I’m sorry,” James offered. Tony nodded, and this time he was crying, tears rolling down his cheeks. James reached into his breast pocket, pulling out a handkerchief. He handed it over to Tony with some awkwardness, but Tony had no compulsions. He blew heavily into it after wiping the tears from his face.

                “I--,” Tony said, trying to regain his composure and failing to manage it. James looked away out of respect, but he didn’t miss hearing the quiet mutter of “Stark men are made of iron. I’m made of iron. We don’t cry.”

                James’ heart broke at that, and he wanted to say something but he knew it wouldn't be appreciated. Instead, he waited for the several short minutes it took for Tony to calm himself down.

                “Thank you for telling me, Sir.”

                “It is the least that I could do,” James said, watching Tony carefully. The kid almost managed to hide every sign that he had cried even the slightest. There was nothing anyone could do about red rimmed eyes without make up though. Tony straightened up.

                “But,” Tony went on. “I don’t think that’s all you are here for. You’re not an officer.”

                “No, I’m not.” James said. He smoothed down his jacket, pulling himself up to his full height and exact form. “I’m part of a group that worked with your father.”

                “Military stuff?” Tony surmised.

                “Not exactly,” James said, thinking about his job. He was a gentleman, a Kingsman—or well the American equivalent anyway. Another intelligence branch that worked with the CIA though completely unknown to the public. “And I’m here to give you something.”

                “What?”

                James carefully took out a medal. It was made of gold and shiny, and it had a red, white and blue ribbon. He dropped it into Tony’s open palm.

                “This belongs to your father, for services rendered.”

                Tony stared at it curiously, examining it.

                “What am I going to do with this?”

                “You can do whatever you like with it,” James replied, “but I think you’ve better keep it safe. We own you a favor—and only one favor. Just call the number on the back of the medal and say “Oxford, not brogues.”

                Tony blinked. “Uh, okay.”

                James smiled. “Take care, Tony and have a good evening.”

\----------

                To be honest, James didn’t think that Tony Stark would ever use the favor. He had watched the kid’s progression over the next several years, and Tony seemed to be doing just fine. Well, relatively. There was the manner of Stane’s corruption and Tony’s subsequent kidnapping in Afghanistan. Still, James thought the kid was doing well even if he had shut down weapons production. However, he was rather wrong on that count, especially when he got called into the Kingsman’s shop on Seventh Avenue in New York. It was a pretty good disguise. Who would expect a tailor shop among the clothes and whores?

                Arthur, or General Ross, sat at the head of the long table that graced the meeting room. James took a seat and put on his glasses. Everyone was already assembled, materializing in the empty seats with a flick of a button on his frames.

                “We received something interesting an hour ago,” General Ross said. “Listen to this, men.”

                An audio clip played.

                “Hello?” Tony’s voice sounded through the room, uncertain and slurred. “I think—no, I know I’m drunk but…”

                “I’m sorry, you have the wrong number,” the operator said.

                “No, please!” Tony said, desperate. There was a crash in the background, probably a bottle of alcohol that fell and smashed against the floor. “I just, I just want someone. Please. I don’t know why I thought this was a good idea but—oxford! Oxford be-before brogues. I just…you own me a favor, right? Let me have someone, anyone? I feel so alone and—”

                “Thank you for filing your compliant. Your situation will be addressed as soon as possible,” the operator said.

                The audio clip cut off with a jerk, leaving the room in silence.

                “Well,” General Ross said. “What do you think?”

                “I think he’s drunk and we shouldn’t take it seriously,” Carol Danvers said bluntly. She was their Galahad and also one of James’ best friends from the Air Force.

                “Yeah,” another Kingsman said. “He’s a raging alcoholic, you know. And he’s not even twenty one yet.”

                “He probably needs someone to watch him,” James added. Tony Stark could certainly use someone. “Didn’t you hear? He said he felt alone, but I don’t know what that has to do with us?”

                General Ross smiled, and James didn’t like it.

                “You are right, Lancelot. Tony Stark does need someone. Someone to guide him, and he asked for it too.”

                Carol spluttered. “You’re not seriously going to take his drunken phone call as a favor, are you?”

                “Why not?” General Ross said. “He didn’t specify, and we’ll be doing the world a favor if Stark is stable and balanced. He has been revolutionizing weapons and technology while stoned out of his mind. Imagine what he could do when sober.”

                “You’re crazy,” James said. “Besides, how do you know he’ll even agree to this?”

                “That is your problem, isn’t it?” General Ross said, leaving James staring.

                “Wait,” James said, a little panicked. “You can’t possibly—“

                “You are the only unmarried man here,” General Ross said. “It wouldn’t be right to ask anyone else to do it.”

                “You got Danvers!” James exclaimed. “And she’s female!”

                “Do you really think Stark’s tastes lean only to women? And Danvers already has her assignment.”

                “I—, “ James floundered.

                “Do not disappoint me.”

\-------------

                James tapped the steering wheel thoughtfully as he watched Tony Stark entered a coffee shop. One of those out of the ways one in disguise. It wasn’t a really good one, but the media didn’t really catch on even though all Tony did was wear sunglasses and had the hood of his sweatshirt up. James groaned. How was he going to do this?

                Still, James made himself get out of the car. He stood outside of the shop, waiting for Tony to exit.

                “Tony Stark,” James said quietly as soon as the man himself appeared. Tony barely concealed his flinch.

                “Don’t know who you’re talking to,” Tony said glibly and started to walk off if it wasn’t for James’ sudden firm grip on Tony’s shoulder.

                “Hey!” Tony said, glaring at James. “What do you want?”

                “You called a favor,” James said. Tony stared at him. “What?”

                James rolled his eyes. “Did you or did you not call the number on the back of the medal?”

                “I—,” Tony’s eyes went wide. “I didn’t—“

                “Uh huh,” James said and guided Tony toward his car. “Let’s talk. And tell your driver you have another way of getting home.”

                Tony didn’t protest. It wasn’t until James started driving that Tony said something.

                “If this is a dream, it’s a really good one. When do we get to the kinky sex?”

                James laughed, cutting his eyes sideways. Tony had ditched the shades and the hood, leaving his hair an unbelievable adorable mess and his brown eyes for view.

                “You dream about me often?”

                Tony smiled at him flirtatiously. “Honey, I’ll dream about you every night if you just fuck my brains out.”

                “I don’t think that’s going to happen.” Or at least, James didn’t think so. He still hadn’t quite decided how Tony’s favor was going to work. It felt as if he was taking advantage.

                “Are you sure?” Tony asked wickedly. James swore as he nearly crashed into another car. Tony had slipped a hand onto his thigh.

                “What the hell are you doing?”

                “Dreaming,” Tony replied and inched his hand up just the slightest. “I give a great blowjob.”

                “Right,” James said shaking his head. This was going to be a little be more difficult than he thought. He wished he wasn’t so turned on by the possibility. “I might as well start talking now.”

                “I love dirty talk.”

                “Right,” James said. “Unfortunately, it’s not that kind of talk. Do you remember me?”

                Tony snorted, pulling his hand back. “Who would? It’s not every day you see the person who told you that Jarvis died. And I didn’t mean to call. It was an accident. Can we forget about it? It won’t happen again.”

                “No way,” Rhodey said. “You called, you got it.”

                That, and James wasn’t going to fail his assignment. Even if it was absurd and ranked right up there as one of the weirdest things he has ever done as an agent.

                “I didn’t even ask for anything!”

                “You sure? Because it sounds to me you need someone.”

                Tony flushed, cheeks turning pink steadily. “I—I was drunk.“

                “I know it isn’t what you thought,” James said, “but here I am.”

                “So, what? You’re going to be my nanny?” Tony asked. “I don’t need one.”

                “You don’t need a nanny,” Rhodey agreed, “but you need someone all right.”

                And that someone was going to be him. James was going to take care of Tony Stark and whatever the world threw at them.


End file.
